There's no nighttime here,
no scrap of honest darkness.
Just the garish lights and forsaken spaces
vacant of cars and people
and all their daytime amenities.
How is a man to find his way through all this light?
It isn't right, this open kind of darkness,
but some things cannot be unwound,
cannot be un-forseen,
cannot be undone,
cannot be forsaken by that which is not there
by the people who no longer are in the space
afraid of the dark.
It is useless to scream interjections
to shout into the void
that which you think you feel
but are not sure that you feel
but something in the feeling of it is right:
this indignation, this wrong-ness.
There is something to it you cannot place
but are sure of
only in its ephemerality is it solid
only by knowing you cannot feel it can it be felt.
How have we come to this?
Pick up a stone and shatter a light.
Find that darkness which cannot be broken
...is broken by...
And now is the realization,
that I am culpable,
Set down the stone, children,
set it down and walk away.
Remember the darkness from which you came
to which you can never return
not because of any conquerable impossibility,
but because it is no longer there.
There cannot be more than this,
cannot be more than us,
but that belief makes itself untrue.
There is power in denial.
There is a special providence
to that which we deny
to that which we preemptively unmake.
It is power beyond admission,
and it will rule us.
My wanderings come to an end.
I fall into bed
towards that darkness to which
I cannot return
towards everything of my own making.
Truly, my own.
That which is a part of me,
but will be forgotten come morning.
Good night, children, good night.